


The Most Ancient and Noble House of Abrasax

by Nonsuch



Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Incest, Minor Violence, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3365984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonsuch/pseuds/Nonsuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jupiter Jones was not saved, and Kalique Abrasax is summoned to her brother's refinery to answer some difficult questions. Kalique will need to use all of her wits to survive and negotiate Balem's madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summoned

When Balem summoned me to his refinery, I knew what the main topic of discussion was to be. While he was usually civil with me, he never sought out my company for the simple pleasure of it. Balem was far too dour for such frivolity, and I was glad of it; my brother repulsed me. He moved like a snake and spoke in choked, gasp-like whispers; no quantity of Regenex was enough to restore him to anything like freshness, for his whole body was corrupt. Sweat seeped from his every pore, and the thick perfume that filled his mouth couldn’t disguise the rotting stench of his breath. I pitied his handmaidens for having to touch more than his hands, and I knew from their expressions—glazed and deadened—that they pitied themselves.

I travelled to the refinery on one of my smallest ships, conscious of painting myself as a nothing; I had a small home planet, modest ships and a choice range of mid-tier holdings. My wealth paled in comparison to Balem’s, and I sought to remind him of the fact. I took with me only two handmaidens and Malidictes; again, it wouldn’t do to face Balem with my full guard. No, I had to be diplomatic; I had to smile and take my brother’s cold, clammy hands in my own. I had to reassure him that I was harmless.

“How do you plan to present your case?” Malidectes had asked upon hearing news of the summons, betraying no fear for himself. He had been in my employ for several thousand years, and knew that I valued him too highly to use him as a scapegoat.

“I will tell the truth; I merely wished to meet her. Who would not want to reunite with their mother, after so long? It is hardly a sentiment that he can deny; he possesses it himself. “

“My spies inform me that he keeps her in your mother’s old rooms.”

I paused, thinking back to long, long ago—to my childhood, and Balem and my mother lying together amidst endless bouquets of flowers. I could conjure the smell as if I had bottled it, and its poignant sweetness almost inspired melancholy. “I imagine it is what mother would have wanted. She liked to have the best.”

“Does my lady perhaps have another reason for visiting, besides her brother’s summons?”

“Well, I can’t deny that it would be good to see mother again. This girl—this Jupiter—is more than my mother in face. She is my mother in spirit. I’m sure Balem is having great fun with her.”

I smiled at the thought of such sin, and we passed the rest of the journey with easy, pleasant conversation.

There was no one waiting to greet us when we docked, and I had my handmaidens bring one of my chairs from the ship so I can sit and enjoy something like comfort. After a long, tedious hour spent staring at the vast, curving ceilings and monumental statues that filled the docking bay, a small figure appeared at the far end of the polished black platform. I knew from the obnoxious click-click-click of his small, heeled boots that I was being approached by Mr Night, for whom I held nearly as much contempt as I reserved for my brother.  I rose when he was ten paces from me, smiling sweetly. “Did my brother not see fit to greet me himself?”

“I’m afraid he is otherwise engaged; he will be waiting by the time we reach the audience chamber, I assure you. Now, will you follow?” Gesturing to my handmaidens and Malidictes, we began to make the long, slow journey along the platform. I walked level with Mr Night, with the others following. I was reassured to hear the regular tread of their feet behind us.

After an extended silence, I chose to make an observation: “It is a shame that my brother could not spare a single transport for his sister. Anyone would think he wants me to wear out my lovely new shoes.”

Mr Night’s nose twitched, and he made a point of staring directly ahead. “Perhaps he is testing his only sister’s devotion. You can hardly deny the transactions you made with those,” he paused pointedly, sniffing with distaste, “cut-throats.”

“Oh, he can rest assured of my devotion Mr Night. I have been looking forward to this audience ever since I received my brother’s summons. I would happily sacrifice these shoes to speak with my brother, and have him understand my motives. Nothing is more important to me.”

“You will have the opportunity to make your case soon enough.”

By the time we reached Balem’s audience chamber, my feet were indeed aching. If I had not had my pride, I might have had my handmaidens carry me between themselves; as it was, I allowed my feet to bleed and ignored the way my soles throbbed. I had developed a remarkable resistance to pain over the course of my millennial existence, and knew that my poor feet would be tended to in due course. My sole discomfort lay in the knowledge of my brother’s morbidity; he could sniff out blood like a hunting dog, and I had no doubt that he would derive some kind of perverse satisfaction from the red marks of my suffering.  

It quickly became apparent that Balem was not present; the chamber was echoing and empty. Mr Night broke out into visible sweat upon realising this, his fine fur dampening and going flat against his face. “If my lady would wait here a moment,” he muttered, scuttling off to a side entrance.

I instantly turned to my handmaidens, locking eyes with Sala. “Your shoes, are they clean?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Remove them, and give them to me. You will wear mine.”

We swapped shoes without another word, and I had just straightened my back when Mr Night re-entered. He said nothing and kept his head low, but I could see a brilliant red mark radiating through his white fur. A moment later Balem swept into his view, his clothes as black as the void and a perfect match for his disposition. He did not look at me as he approached his seat, only seeing fit to raise his eyes to me once he was settled. He said nothing, and so I decided to be assertive. I swept forward, my warmest smile showing. I held out my hands for him to take, kneeling before him in deference and preparing for his cold touch. A moment later, his hand met my face in a slap. “Hello sister,” he hissed, his voice barely present. My face remained jerked to the side, my smile gone. He seized my chin with his hand, turning my face towards him to regard the mark he had made. “Yes, that _does_ suit you.”

I had never been struck by Balem before in my life. I had thought him far too weak to act in such a manner against another entitled, let alone a sibling. My thoughts reeled, and my ancient heart thudded at a relentless pace. For the first time in my life, my brother had inspired fear in me. That fear, naturally, only compounded my loathing. “It is good to see you too, brother, though I cannot say that I have enjoyed your greeting.” I kept my voice and my gaze steady. My face remained a mask.

“You weren’t meant to.  You know exactly why you are here – no amount of smiles could compensate for your treachery.” His hand remained on my face like a vice, his sharp fingers pressing deep into my newly replenished skin.

“It was hardly treachery.” I kept my voice calm, and watched as his eyes softened.

“You look at me with such innocence. It is really quite remarkable,” the tension left his fingers and they brushed softly against my face as I drew away. I remained on my knees, but kept my face as far away from his hands as I was able.

“I look at you with innocence because I am innocent. Indeed, you should be grateful to me.”

“Tell me, what have you done that warrants gratitude?”

“I kept the girl alive. If your plan had been carried out, she would be dead. Is that truly what you wanted?”

His right eye spasmed: a dangerous sign, but one I had no choice but to ignore.

“You know it is not. It changed when you saw her, didn’t it? I found it too. She is so like her—it really is as if she never left us. I saved you from making the worst mistake of your life. You ought to be thanking me.”

“The girl is a threat. She will not yield. I have killed every one of her family members—save her mother—with her watching, yet she has not broken,” his voice lowered to be almost imperceptible, and he moved his mouth to my ear so only I would hear him, “she remains in possession of the deed to Earth. She keeps it from me.”

“What better proof could you ask for, brother? Mother would have down the same—she knew her own will, and never deviated from it. And she is so like mother, isn’t she?”

He exhaled slowly, and I had to steel myself against the foulness of it. “She grows more like her every day. Would you like to see her?”

“Yes, most assuredly.”

“Then I will take you to her. Come.” He took my hand and rose, his elaborate, long sleeves hanging from his arms like severed wings. I rose with him, grateful to be elevated from my knees.

Balem turned his head to look at the small group of onlookers before the royal seat, sniffing the air. Malidectes, Sala and Riba looked on impassively, none of their faces betraying a flicker of concern. If I hadn’t told them to display indifference to whatever they might witness, I might have felt hurt. “I can smell blood,” remarked Balem to no one in particular.

Linking my arm through his, I started to walk us towards our mother’s rooms. “It is most likely one of the handmaidens. They lack our thick, Abrasax skin, you understand.”

 “The blood makes punishing them so satisfying.”

“I tend to forgo violence myself, brother. But you must do whatever gives you pleasure; your pleasure is paramount.”

He looked at me, his eyes quite dead. “You would do well to remember that yourself.”

And with that, we left the chamber and went to meet our mother.


	2. Caged

“Has the Commonwealth been snapping at your heels?” I asked as we walked together, keeping my voice far lighter than my intent.

He let out something like a laugh. “They have filed all kinds of petitions. We have filed reciprocal petitions.”

“You must be so grateful for that den of corruption.”

“It is in no small part a product of our corruption, sister—it is one of our lesser accomplishments, but it is no mere den. It is a web.”

Mother’s quarters were quite separate from the rest of the refinery. To reach them, it was necessary to pass through an ornate golden door into a corridor formed of pure, polished marble. Mother had had to spend extended periods at the refinery to supervise harvests and yields, but had been loath to exchange her exquisite taste for brute utility. So she had a palace built, buried within the hard-edged network of metal structures and processing plants; it had already been there for more than a thousand years by the time of my birth, and my mother considered it her second home. Naturally, it had been preserved after my mother’s passing; Balem had attended to the matter personally. I had not entered my mother’s palace since the rift between us—it had been mother’s inner sanctum, a temple to her own exquisite self, and I had ceased to be welcome when I had chosen to defy her.  

I could smell flowers, the flowers I remembered from my childhood, upon passing through the golden door. I could not tell if the smell was only present in my memory, so did not remark upon it. My brother was too fond of mockery to warrant such a risk.

It had been a long time—so long the number of years hardly mattered—since I had last been so alone with Balem, but I kept level with him. I maintained an amiable conversation, and was silent when I sensed that his patience was being tested. Balem enjoyed being obscure almost as much as he enjoyed tormenting those who failed to comprehend him. He knew he made others nervous, and found perverse pleasure in their discomfort.

At the end of the corridor, which was perhaps a mile long, was another door; this one was formed of pure quartz. Though it was subdued by the door, I could also detect a voice. I was glad that we had reached our destination; while Sala’s shoes were hardier than mine had been, they were far less comfortable.

Balem retrieved a key and entered it into the lock, turning it to reveal the grand hall I had roamed so merrily as a child; great, billowing swathes of blue fabric hung from the huge, vaulted ceiling, suggesting a calm sky. Mother had always preferred old-fashioned raw materials over simulations; she had enjoyed textures and touching. The floor was softly carpeted to allow my mother easy tread, and the furniture was discreetly and tastefully arranged towards the edges of the space. I was so absorbed by my surroundings—so loved once—that I might not have noticed Jupiter had she not charged for the door, two handmaidens following her like shadows.  

Balem, of course, was much too swift. The door was locked before Jupiter could reach it, and Balem had already moved towards one of the sofas when she stopped. He ignored Jupiter entirely, but I couldn’t help but watch, fascinated and appalled, as she scratched at the door. It was like observing an animal—she was quite senseless in her desire for escape. When one of the handmaidens attempted to take hold of her arm to stop her, Jupiter pulled it away. She didn’t turn to the girl, but I heard her snarl: “Don’t you fucking touch me.” There was no Seraphi Abrasax in this conduct; no, this girl, in this particular place, was an aberration. I felt a compulsion to destroy her in that moment—to cleanse the space, you understand—but managed to lift my stare and join my brother.  

She continued to attack the door until she exhausted herself, slumping against it. She faced away from us. I turned quickly to look at Balem, and found that he was watching her expectantly, waiting for her to turn. When she did not, he tilted his head to address the handmaidens: “Bring her here, and make sure that she faces us.”

 Despite being slight and soft-armed, the handmaidens were stronger than they had first appeared. Upon further observation, I realised that they were lion splices, which explained their quick, powerful movements.  Jupiter was brought before us, with one of the handmaidens restraining her arms and the other restraining her head. Despite all of the hate writ upon it, hate channelled purely at my brother, I could still see mother in her features; her anger and my own started to fade from my consciousness, and I had to fight an instinct to reach out and touch her face. Yes, Balem had been right—she seemed even more like mother than she had before. If the mother I had built a shrine to was a deity of wisdom and serenity, this mother was a deity of rage and hate; they were different faces, but they belonged to a single soul.  

“It really is extraordinary,” I murmured, almost to myself.

“You can see her too, can’t you?”

“Yes; it is even clearer than before.”

Jupiter had been squirming in an attempt to wrest herself free, but paused quite suddenly as Balem spoke, her eyes moving from him and locking onto my face. Immediately, her face transformed. The rage washed away, and she looked at me as if she were seeing me for the first time. Her face shone with dazzling hope.

“Can you help me?” she asked, her eyes huge and pleading. “Please, I have to get out of here. He’s insane. He’s trying to make me become like him.”

I paused only for a moment before making my choice. I addressed the handmaidens directly: “Release her.”

I saw their eyes dart to Balem, but I did not see his response. I kept my eyes trained on Jupiter, and spread my arms wide when the grips on her wrists and her hair were released; she ran, surging up to my body. She clung to me, her fingers penetrating my thin gauze gown to dig hard into my skin.  She pressed her face against my breast as if she were but a small child, saying nothing. I only knew she was sobbing because her body shook against mine; she had clearly learned to keep silent.

I did not need to look at my brother to know that he was watching us. I could feel Jupiter freeze when he spoke. “It’s strange to see her like this, isn’t it?

“Yes, most strange.” I answered, sounding distant even to myself. I kept one hand light against Jupiter’s shoulder and looked down upon her head, waiting for her to look up. When she did, her face was quite dry; the only trace of her tears was the residual redness of her eyes.

“You’ve got to help me. You said you wanted a second chance with your mother, didn’t you? I am your second chance; you can’t leave me here to rot, to go mad—”

“I will do what I can for you,” I answered calmly, stroking her shoulder, “but you must appreciate that you are under Balem’s power. He is the arbiter of your fate, for now at least, and you would do well to show him courtesy.”

She sprang back from me as if I’d given her a shock. When on her feet she took a few quick steps back, her eyes sweeping from me to Balem. “Show him courtesy? He killed my family. He made me watch them die. And I’m meant to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ like a good girl? I’d sooner spit in his face.”

Balem smiled, looking down quickly before meeting her glare. “You will not—not as long as your mother lives.”

Her taut face softened at the mention, some of the anger making way for fear. “Let me see her.”

“Sign the decree, and she will be brought to you without delay.”

“Not happening.”

“Then you will never see her.” Balem turned to address one of the handmaidens. “Bring wine for us.” Lowering her head in deference, the girl left without another word.

Jupiter, meanwhile, had returned her attention to me. “You’re not going to help me at all, are you?” Though much calmer, her pain was far more palpable; her horror was now being directed at me.

“It is as I told you,” I paused to accept the glass of wine offered by the handmaiden, who was as quick as she was silent and strong, “I will do what I can.”

“And what will you do, sister?” I stilled the glass at my lips before the wine could pass. “How do you intend to help her?”

Conscious that both of them were watching me, I displayed a slight smile and titled the glass to take the smallest imaginable sip. Upon lowering the glass, I turned to my brother. “I merely intend to provide comfort and make her more tractable. Fine chambers and servants are no match for friendship. And these mute handmaidens can hardly civilise her themselves.” I lifted the glass to my lips, taking another mouthful.  

Balem turned to Jupiter. His pose was languorous, and he balanced his wine glass between his fingers. “Would you like a friend?”

Jupiter’s eyes flashed to me, and I tried to evoke with my eyes what I could not say aloud.

“Yes,” she said dully. “I would.”

“Then you will join us,” he moved the wine glass before him, extending it to her, “if Kalique is to be your friend, you should first accept our courtesy.”

Jupiter eyed the glass warily, but moved forward and tentatively reached out a hand for the glass. She froze when Balem spoke, her fingers barely grazing the glass.

“No. Kneel. I offer you a gift of wine, not a gift of a glass.”

Jupiter shook her head, withdrawing her hand and stepping back.

He merely had to give the handmaidens a look to make them go to her; they reached her before she could move further away, each of them holding onto an arm. Balem rose, the glass still held lightly in his hand, and moved towards her. The hate concentrated in Jupiter’s face was of a rare intensity, and I knew from my brother’s expression that he was enjoying it immensely. I could only suppose that he was perceiving her for what she was—a human, a piece of cattle—rather than what she appeared to be. If he had truly thought the hate to be our mother’s, his face would have been a ruin of tears.

Jupiter kept her eyes level with his face as he approached, and I couldn’t help but be impressed by the change in her. She seemed as strong now as she had seemed pitiful upon our entry, and while her defiance was stupid—the defiance of an animal incapable of true comprehension—I found something to admire in it.    

“You will drink,” murmured Balem, pressing the glass to her lips, “and you will be grateful.” Some of the satisfaction had faded from his face, seemingly eroded by the cold persistence of her hate. He tipped the glass for a few moments before withdrawing it. A moment later, Jupiter spat the wine at his face.

The glass dropped instantly, falling with a silent thud and spilling its contents over the carpet. The strike was quick and severe; her face was sent sideways by it, the mark blooming quickly. The shout, which was more like a scream, made me start. “TAKE HER AWAY!” I caught Jupiter’s eyes as she was taken from the hall, and I just caught a glimpse of her smile. I was fascinated to detect a touch of madness in it.

That smile was the first indicator I had of Jupiter Jones’ potential.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for the warm reception to the first chapter, everyone! I hope you enjoy the second one and the first appearance of Jupiter. Even though she's in a terrible situation, I wanted to keep her strong but as real as I could. Let me know what you make of it!


	3. A Mission of Mercy

I was sent from Jupiter (the girl and the planet) immediately after the incident. Balem was in what can only be described as a sulk, and vocalised the bare minimum of words required to expel me from his presence.

Cerise was a welcome oasis of beauty and calm following the emotional chaos of the refinery, but I nonetheless found myself dwelling on memories of Jupiter’s face. Her parting look, with all its wild fury, had sparked what I can only term appreciation. In all our millennia together, I had never seen mother wear such an expression – countless hours spent scheming, planning and plotting had eroded every last vestige of true feeling from her face. While her life wore on, her eyes had been hard, like slate; despite all that Regenex can do for the body, it can do nothing for the soul. Ah, but Jupiter’s eyes! Jupiter’s eyes couldn’t have been more different – Jupiter’s eyes had blazed.

These thoughts weighed heavily on my mind when I went to visit Titus. I was amused by his sheer incompetence, and found his imprisonment quite delightful. My amusement was only marginally undercut by the shame of it – mother would have winced to think of her baby boy trapped in a pitifully small prison apartment in the outer rim of Orous. Titus was hardly pleased with the situation, particularly because he had been allowed to retain only a skeleton staff of nine. Scarcely a day passed without a request of some kind from him – these were primarily requests for money, since Titus found his meagre allowance too limited to pay for adequately persuasive bribes.  He had always been frivolous with his spending and his tastes, and I enjoyed indulging him according to my whims – I tended to refrain from sending credit until he was reduced to grovelling pleas and shameless flattery.

My first visit to him was paid within a month of my trip to Jupiter, as I finally gave in to his incessant requests for my presence. I travelled with my handmaidens only, and had them wait outside the apartment while I went in to see my brother. There was no need for formality with Titus, and I was quite capable of handling myself.

He rushed to greet me upon being informed of my arrival. He looked as immaculate as ever, covered only by a green, shimmering robe that left a generous expanse of his chest on show. He was quite exquisite, and my mouth thinned to a tight line as I recalled how he had always been pampered and doted upon by mother. How her hands had caressed that chest and stroked his fine, beautifully proportioned face. He extended his hands, taking mine and addressing me with his usual boldness: “Dear sister, have you any news on my case? This place is truly wretched.”

“You should be asking your lawyers such questions.”

“But my lawyers have none of your charm.”

“Then you should take care to hire staff that better satisfy your perversions.”

“You have quite the sting today. Did Balem leave a sour taste in your mouth?”

“He left a sour taste in my soul. Now, won’t you invite me to sit?”

I was duly invited into a small sitting room populated by an eclectic mix of furniture and carpets. I recognised a gilded lamp as once having belonged to mother – Titus had clearly brought the furnishings with him. Despite the small and rather cramped nature of the accommodation, it was comfortable enough and I settled easily into the red-upholstered chair I was offered. Titus sat opposite me, lounging on a wide and cushion-laden seat.

My brother followed my eyes as they passed over the room; he looked positively crestfallen in the face of my visible disdain. “It’s wretched, isn’t it? Famulus has done what she could, but there are limits to what one can do with ten rooms.”

“Only ten? Your funds must be positively bleak.”

“Why do you think I wanted Earth so much? It will be 1,000 years before Chandor is ready for harvest, and my stocks are running low.” He sighed with an over-dramatic air, raising his glittering eyes to meet mine. “But you, sweet sister, make me forget my fortunes.”

I rolled my eyes. “You would do better to face them, Titus. You have only your own recklessness to blame. Now, don’t you have a servitant? I’m dreadfully thirsty.”

Titus raised an arm to snap his fingers, and a servitant with shockingly red skin entered and attended to my drink.

“Now, why did you want me to come? Requests for credit aside, your FTLs were as vague as they were incessant.”

The servitant gently took hold of my hand to place a glass in my grip, carefully closing my fingers over the glass stalk before pouring my drink. “I heard that you were summoned to dear brother Balem’s refinery, and I was curious – does he still possess Miss Jones?”

“He does.” I raised my glass to my lips, sipping slowly.   

“How did you find their company? Has Miss Jones learned any self-preservation?”

“No. In fact she is quite wild – it’s highly entertaining to witness.”

“I doubt Balem takes the same view.  He’s always had a violent hatred of disorder.” Titus gestured to the servitant, who filled his own glass as he continued to speak. “What did he want you for in the first place?”

“He had me explain myself, of course. He doesn’t like others playing with his toys. You should consider yourself lucky that you’re in prison – he would undoubtedly summon you were he not actively avoiding all communication with the Aegis.”

“I have no doubt that he is exacting his petty revenge from a distance.  I have reason to believe he is bribing my guards to refuse me comforts.”

“That would be like him. He dislikes pleasure almost as much as he dislikes being played.”

Titus sunk further back into his seat, but his eyes were quite heavy with purpose. “What explanation did you offer?”

“I told him the truth. I pointed out that I did him a favour – he would have regretted her death had his assassins succeeded.”

“But that’s absurd,” he leaned forward again, remarkably animated. “She is a threat to his authority. Her swift death as a nothing would have benefited him immensely.”

“Are you really so dense, Titus? You appear to forget her face. Balem doesn’t look at her and see Jupiter. He looks at her and sees mother.”

Titus snorted out a laugh, and parted his lips to make a witty comeback before registering the stony seriousness of my expression. “You _are_ being serious. How curious.”

“Mother’s death was a dreadful blow to him; surely you remember the funeral? He may not have quite cried, but he collapsed over the coffin.”

“Yes, but to equate Jupiter with her? It is quite the insult to mother.”

“How so?”

He shook his head, mock disbelieving. “You do so excel at incredulity. Her gullibility springs to mind. Mother was shrewd; she would have laughed at me had I attempted with her what I attempted with Jupiter.”

“She would not have, not if she had been ignorant and unaware of our ways and our world. Do you have any concept of how old she is?”

“Enlighten me.”

“According to my scanner, she was twenty-two and three months when she visited me.”

Titus whistled. “I suppose that makes me a cradle robber.” He paused, tilting his head in mock contemplation. “Though it does make her decidedly exotic.  I don’t think I’ve ever had a woman less than a hundred before.”

“I am glad she was rescued from such an appalling fate.”

My remark was tactfully ignored, with Titus smoothly changing the subject. “What did become of Mr Wise? I can’t help but be curious, given our history.”

“I believe he attempted to pierce the outer shell of Balem’s refinery in an attempt to rescue Jupiter; a suicide mission, of course.”

“A most noble end. Was Miss Jones informed?”

“Not to my knowledge. She is suffering enough, and I see no reason to increase the burden of her sorrows.”

“I take it that he’s killed the family, then.”

“All but the mother. Balem is no fool; he knows which cards to keep.”

Titus nodded. “I imagine they were absolutely _dreadful_ , given how gauche she was. It’s quite extraordinary how noble genes can be smothered by the wrong upbringing.”

It was of no profit to me to present a defence, so I merely smiled and drunk from my glass. The rest of the visit passed in languid conversation, with my brother inviting me to join him on his seat. Titus had been an accomplished seducer since childhood, and I decided it would be cruel to ignore his overtures entirely. I allowed some scattered kisses and stroked his soft, slightly curling hair, but drew away when he reached for my breast. “No.”

He retreated, but made a great show of it. “You disappoint me – I was so looking forward to some variety. I only have a choice of nine lovers – nine! It is insufferable.”

“You are truly depraved, Titus.”

“My depravity is part of my charm, surely.”  

“It can be amusing on occasion, but only on occasion.”

I rose and moved to the door. Titus remained in a reclining pose on his seat, his hair dishevelled and his eyes soaked in promise. After a long moment of silence, with our eyes held firmly on each other’s faces, he spoke: “Do you think he has touched her?”

“I believe she would tear his face off were he to try.”

He scoffed. “Haven’t you heard of chains?” 

I did not deem this question worthy of an answer, and departed without another word. I passed a pleasure model, disrobed in readiness, as I returned to my handmaidens and my ship.

A month passed, and with each day of silence my curiosity intensified. It reached such a pitch that I was almost at the point of requesting an audience when an FTL arrived. Balem, it emerged, was no longer residing at the refinery; he had removed himself to Kalydon, his favoured planet of residence on those rare occasions when he was not entirely consumed by business. And I, as it turned out, was required.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos/comments, everyone! Do leave your thoughts on this latest instalment - I always like to hear what people think.


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